X-Men: Issues II
by LJ58
Summary: A look inside another hero's head. One with far too many years to consider his life, and his destiny.


_I do not own any Marvel characters named within, and am only using them to tell a story intended for entertainment purposes only._

**X-Men: Issues II**

**By LJ58**

His name was Logan.

Well, it was one of his names.

He had had many names over the years. Many sobriquets, as Hank would have said.

Sometimes, even he had felt like he had lived too long, though. He had watched far too many years slip past him. Some slow, and inexorable, and some flying past in a haze that were barely noted. The point was, he had lived far too long for even someone like him.

A mutant.

Some would even have said an animal.

Or, of course, a monster.

There was, naturally, some truth to all those labels.

There was a beast in him. A berserker that cared nothing for anyone, and was at times hard to control. Very hard. Ironically, it was that implacable monster that had kept him alive at times when he would have rather just yielded to the inevitable. For surely, even someone like him couldn't live forever?

He was starting to seriously wonder about that one.

His healing factor had been his first, and most obvious gift from the beginning. Uncounted decades blurred past the century mark, and he still wasn't sure just when it might fade, and finally let him die. So far, it was still going strong.

Strong enough to survive Time itself. To survive the horrific trauma of having Adamantium forced into his body. Strong enough to survive battles that defied description, or belief.

He had buried far too many friends and allies, too.

Some, he thought grimly as he inhaled the acrid smoke of one of his by now trademark cigars, he had buried twice.

Steve Rogers. A literal living legend. He had given his life twice in service to an indifferent country.

Chuck, the very embodiment of mutant rights, and a better world.

Then there were all those others.

Far too many to count at times.

Yet, he was still here, still fighting. Still trying to make a difference.

"Brooding again," a soft, husky voice laced with sarcastic wit demanded.

He turned, and eyed the still lovely, but obviously aging Emma Frost who came out of the shadows of the thick forest around them.

The New X-Men's new home.

Hank, he mused with a grunt at her, would have loved this place.

"You're late for practice," she told him curt as ever when he didn't otherwise respond.

"Yeah? Big whoop, lady. Last I seen, your new team is about as good as they can get without some more actual field experience," he muttered, and drew on his cigar again.

"Not them. I have a new Beta team. Some of the younger conscripts have banded together on their own. If you had bothered to check the schedule…."

Logan just eyed her.

"Saw it last week," he shrugged.

"You need to check the schedule more often," she told him with a weary sigh.

"Whatever," he grunted.

"Will you at least run them through a few scenarios, and ascertain if any of them have any potential?"

"Potential? That what you calling it now, darlin'," he smirked as he dropped the butt of his cigar, and ground it out under a bare foot without even flinching.

"You're still the best instructor I have in combat sims," she admitted. "I'd rather know what kind of a chance these kids have before they have to face reality, Logan."

"I gotcha," he muttered. "Fine, fine. I'll put the kiddies through their paces. You want them encouraged, or discouraged this time?"

"I'll leave it to you. Just be honest."

"Whatever," he said, and turned for the camouflaged entryway that led to their underground headquarters.

Unlike Chuck, who had been far too idealistic at the best of times, they kept their new 'school' hidden, and very secret. No one was going to come calling unless they had a personal invitation from one of the older X-Men.

They weren't big on invites these days. Not after the fourth time the old mansion had been blown away.

"Just don't act surprised when some of them come crying on your shoulder," he tossed over his own shoulder before disappearing.

Emma sighed, and shook her head.

She wondered if she should tell him she was dying yet.

She knew the way Logan thought. What truly upset the seemingly indifferent warrior. There were far too few of his old companions around. Some had simply left. Most were simply buried after one too many battles.

Now, Emma knew she was dying. She knew her body as well as any, and better than some. Her augmented mutation was finally killing her, just as it had Magneto, and those others that had dared use tech that was never meant for human use at all.

She steeled herself as she headed for the entry, and chose to be silent for the time being.

She wasn't dead yet, and if the reborn Ultra-Men showed, they didn't need doubts, or hesitation. They needed committed warriors.

Like Logan.

He might never admit it, but he remained the first, best hope for the survival of mutants in their world. He needed to become more than an instructor, or mentor. He needed to become their leader.

Maybe one day he would see that.

_End_


End file.
